


Growing Up Strider

by zomgenius



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Sadstuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 22:44:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zomgenius/pseuds/zomgenius
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave remembers his childhood, and the man he grew up alongside - his Brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Growing Up Strider

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a 30-day Character Development challenge. "Describe your character’s relationship with their mother or their father, or both. Was it good? Bad? Were they spoiled rotten, ignored? Do they still get along now, or no?"
> 
> This is meant to go along with my fanfic 'Hey There, Harley,' rather than strictly canonical events.

I’ve never had a mom or dad, really. It was just me and my brother… Even if he isn’t really my brother, and lifted me off a meteor like the impoverished lifting TVs out of Wal-Mart during a natural disaster.

Bro has always been nearby, watching my every step. As a kid, it was pretty cool. There’s rarely a child who doesn’t look up to their older sibling, wanting to be just like them. I mean, shit. Dude’s got the world figured out. He spoiled my baby ass rotten. We went all over the place, doing anything we wanted, hanging out, being the most badass brother duo to ever grace the sidewalks of Houston, TX. He knew all the sweet ass things to do, and I’m not just talking about bringing home the bacon so kid brother doesn’t starve – though he was hella good at that, too. He was a superhero in my eyes, I guess. Isn’t every guardian? Bro could get around the apartment like he was the fucking Flash, and saved our asses from burglars who dared to set foot inside the apartment on more than one occasion. He always told me it was to make sure I was well-protected. I’m sure it was, but anymore, I kind of wonder what he meant.

We had brotherly moments, chilling on the couch and watching shitty movies. Those were pretty nice, I guess. Quiet days were rare. There are a couple of other times I vaguely remember from when I was real young, though – the burglars I mentioned. I remember Bro sending me to my room with Lil Cal – he was always around as a watchful eye, too – and telling me to stay quiet and look busy. I guess those burglars were really more after me than anything. Official-looking men in suits from the state, asking where I was. Bro took care of them, and I never really had to deal with a thing. I was young. I guess they never liked the fact that some guy was teaching his kid brother how to fight. A black eye or a cut on my arm wasn’t much, though. Not in exchange for this Superman of a brother I had. I mean, he cared enough about me to save me from the people who wanted to take me, right?

Soon afterwards, Bro taught me all the right things to do – with a sword, with a comic, with music… You name it. By age ten, I was cutting into shit with my blade like I was some kind of human guillotine. I was already learning every trick in the book about making comics and spinning records – what to do, what not to do, what was cool in an ironic way. I got spoon-fed irony for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It’s what we lived off of in our household. If you weren’t wearing pink boxers, a pair of shades, and a stoic expression, you were lame as shit and could get the fuck out.

But you know, that was kind of the thing; I never really could get the fuck out. I mean, sure, I could leave the apartment to go down the street and do whatever I wanted. But when it came to the thought of legitimately leaving, I just couldn’t. I knew, no matter what I did, he’d be two steps behind me, nigh invisible. Watching. Waiting for me to screw up so he could swoop in and rip me a new one for it, then bring my sorry ass home. I tried not coming home once, just to see what he would do. Let’s just say I never tried that again. But while it was like some weird, penthouse prison cell, I understood why I never really needed to leave. Bro did spoil me, down to the core. And really, what was a kid like myself supposed to do? Didn’t make me any less angry, though.

Everyone knows that kind of anger – the white hot teenage angst kind, when you’re pissed off at everything around you, because you just simply can’t do the things you want to. You can’t. It’s a fact of life. And I had a ton of it, bottled up tighter than the apple juice in my closet. Sometimes, when Bro and I had one of our Strider Household Beatdowns, I’d try and use all my anger to get back at him. If I could just win once, maybe it would prove that I was just as much of a man.

No, _more_.

It never worked. Those were usually the days he kicked me to the ground harder than he typically did. One fine Dave Strider ass, ready for serving, hot off the sword. I hated admitting it, but I need to have the cool, calm, emotionless façade that he put up – it was what made him able to win, and was what would do the same for me. As time went on, that superhero I once saw turned into a villain. He was the obstacle I needed to overcome to get to the next level. I never had any idea what I’d do when I got that far, but I knew it would all turn out all right once I didn’t have to deal with his borderline abusive ass.  
So why did it feel like something was so wrong once he was gone? He left me completely alone, having to fend for myself the entire time. Thirteen isn’t all that young anymore, but still. As much as I hated knowing I could never be better than him, or beat him… I missed him. He may have only gone off to college, but for all intents and purposes, I was still a kid. I just tried to make the most out of the opportunity. And meanwhile, he was over at the newly-formed Skaianet University, making another new name for himself, as well.

I’m not surprised he decided to take me back under his wing once I got there, several years later. But this crow’s learned how to fly, Bro. You can hold me by the feathers as long as you want, but I’ll eventually molt. Then you’ll just be left with black feathers and an empty nest, while I have the clear skies and the friends who know me best.


End file.
